The Aftermath of Mania

I've read a lot about experiences, and I've seen a lot of blog posts about recovery from a Bipolar episode. But I've rarely seen them talk about the nitty-gritty of what it's like trying to get yourself "us back to normal...get us back to good...Gonna get back what we had and maybe more" from Next to Normal the musical. So here's what it's like. TRIGGER WARNING: SUICIDAL IDEATION AND MANIC FALLOUT BELOW. 

Coming down off a manic high is akin to ending a war and taking stock of your casualties. There are three categories of casualties after one of my manic episodes: financial, relationships, self. 

Real screenshot of my bank account currently.

Let's start with the financial. My budgeting has never been on point, but after this latest episode, I learned that TD bank has an overdraft limit of -$800. I reached it and surpassed it with a maintenance fee. I don't know what they are mantianing--I literally have less than zero dollars to my name. Now, not all of that has been manic spending. 

A lot of that has been co-pays, outpatient therapy, gas, EZ-Pass, hospitalization, overdraft fees, etc. But some of it--coloring books, crayons, markers, glitter, glue, notebooks (ALL THE NOTEBOOKS), upgraded Netflix, Amazon Prime, Brainpop and Brainpop Jr, Acarde game money, pretzels...those were manic purchases.

No one has cleared me for work yet, so I am on disability but that's been a headache (another post for another time) so I haven't gotten paid in a month. That doesn't help either. This does not include rent (not sure where that's coming from), and wouldn't include food (my fridge was empty, but thanks to amazing friends who have become family, I have groceries and can actually feed myself and Moppet). See why I said in my earlier post mania can be bad?

Second: Relationships. I do a lot of crazy shit when I'm manic, I say a lot of crazy shit. I melt down like a psycho. It's a raging storm--kind of like if Elsa was a demon as opposed to a princess and her ice was hellfire. I've burned a lot of bridges, cried a lot when I've realized it. This time I had to go and apologize to so many people for my actions--I created peace offerings, and earnest apologies fell from my lips over and over again. These true friends, and friends who have become family, and my actual family, welcomed me back with open arms. But the guilt, well that remains. It's always hard for me to swallow, how I can hurt the people I love the most, but I do. Over and over again. Mania sucks. 

Third: Self. It's interesting. When you get out of a general hospital, the consensus is you're

That's me, and Moppet (Dog)

cured. Or at least diagnosed and in the process of getting fixed. There are get well cards, and balloons and stuffed animals. There is empathy. That is not the case for getting out of the psych ward--people, my friends included, automatically think okay well you're okay now. Right? It's past--we're over the crazy? No one has, of course, said these things, but it's always implied. 

Just because I was discharged does not mean I'm okay. I will relapse and relapse a lot. Even as I sit here typing, I'm doubting my self-worth, I'm having rapid thoughts. I feel guilt over my actions when I was manic, I'm grieving my lost engagement. I'm a fucking mess. But I can't tell anyone--at least it doesn't feel that way--because they've all been through the crazy with me. The stopping point was the psych ward. That's where I was supposed to be fixed. And I wasn't. 

See, the hardest part is admitting to myself that I have a long way to go before I can put this entire episode behind me. I have done too much, it has gone on too long. I have been unable to work, so I feel like garbage, I have been unable to live alone so I feel worthless. My mind is my biggest enemy right now, and no matter what the therapists and psychiatrists say, it's not getting easier. It's a big, fucking uphill climb that never seems to end. And every step I take, I feel like I fall down even further. 

So when people say: "you're okay? You're doing better?" I smile and bite on the lie because I don't know how to tell people I'm not. It's a slow process, I don't feel like it. I've wounded myself badly. I'm trying to remember this is all just "for right now." And that's hard. That's why, I think, healing the self is far harder than the financial and the relationships. Because to quote the musical Pippin (can you tell I love theatre) to run from yourself "is mighty far to run."